


ive been thinking lots about your mouth

by nightwideopen



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Boys Kissing, Canon Compliant, Circa 2015, Enemies to Lovers, House Party, Louis Smokes, M/M, Mouth Kink, No Smut, Pining, References to Drugs, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 07:53:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14327979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightwideopen/pseuds/nightwideopen
Summary: Nick hears Louis Tomlinson before he sees him.





	ive been thinking lots about your mouth

**Author's Note:**

> I had a horrible idea about a year ago about Nick and Louis based on Talk! by the 1975. Louis is just... so loud and I think it's such a noteworthy thing about him. It was his trademark to me in the early 1D days. Louis' big loud mouth. The title says it all. I can’t lie his mouth is the 8th wonder of the world.
> 
> Also I love that there's a 'Louis Smokes' tag haha
> 
> _I’ve been thinking lots about your mouth  
>  A conversation superseded by the way you talk_

Nick hears Louis Tomlinson before he sees him.

Between Nick’s weak eyesight and the strobe lights flickering through the apartment, it’s hard to distinguish anything besides blurry figures and blobs of furniture. In a stroke of genius, he’d left his glasses at home to save them from getting as smashed as he intends to be, as well as his contacts to save himself from a full day of dry eyes and sticky blinking and scraping them off of his already sensitive eyeballs. He figured he could deal with a few hours of stumbling around Alexa’s flat before he got so drunk that he didn’t need to be worried about the way he was bumping into her paintings and knocking over her fairy lights. 

Louis is just a shadow of a person, standing on the kitchen island and shouting something about a karaoke competition. Nick can barely make out the faces in the crowd below him, but they’re all looking up at him in wonder, roaring in response to his apparently brilliant suggestion. Even through the fog of his terrible vision, Nick can see that Louis draws in everyone around him, moths to a flame. 

Everyone shuffles out of the kitchen, pouring into the living room through the doorway that Nick is currently blocking. He can still hear Louis’ voice, chatting away to someone about something that Nick can’t quite hear. His voice is addictive though, something that Nick didn’t know voices could be. His feet follow an invisible path, his body weaving through the crowd of its own accord, trying to make its way back to a place it isn’t entirely familiar with.

Someone grabs him halfway there, spinning him around and getting too close to his face, close enough that he can see them.

It’s Harry.

“Grimmy! I didn’t know you were here!” He smells like limes and vodka and Tom Ford. “We’re gonna do karaoke, are you comin’?” 

Nick is either too shaken or too drunk to answer. Either way, he just shakes his head and continues along into the kitchen. 

“– And I swear, I'd never been so fucking scared in my life. I thought it was going to– Can I help you?”

The cup in Nick’s hand is empty, he realises. Then he realises that Louis is talking to him. Nick can’t do anything but stare at him, all too aware that Louis _can’t_ help him. Everything was already blurry, but now his vision is beginning to take a psychedelic route.

“Guess not, mate. You comin’, Ni?”

Just then Niall Horan’s voice is much too loud in Nick’s ear. “Only if Grimmy does!”

Nick manages to find his voice. “N–No, I’m just gonna hang out here. If that’s alright.”

“Suit yourself. Come on then Lou, let’s crush ‘em.”

Louis’ fuzzy outline sways on the spot. “I’ll be right there, let me just get another drink.”

“Sure thing!” Niall emerges from behind Nick, laughing his way into the living room where everyone cheers upon his arrival. It’s must be a One Direction thing, being loved by everyone. “Later, Grimmy!”

The kitchen is eerily quiet after Niall’s gone, the sounds of the crowd muffled by the thick walls between the two rooms. All Nick can hear is the clinking of beer bottles in the fridge.

“So…” Nick had almost forgotten what brought him in here in the first place. “What’s your deal, Grimshaw? Why’re you hovering around me all of a sudden?” 

“I’ll be honest mate,” he pours himself another drink, hoping it’ll erase the embarrassment of this entire exchange from his mind, “I can't see a damn thing and I'm halfway to plastered so I don't really know.”

“What do you mean you can't see? Lose your glasses or summat?”

Louis is suddenly very close to him, close enough that he can make out Louis’ features. Nick’s eyes can't help but strain to see his bright blue eyes, the freckles on his cheek, his Cupid’s bow lips that are pursed ever so curiously. His lips part, and Nick can see that chip in his tooth that the fans are always on about. He thinks he most definitely gets it now. It’s endearing and delicious all at once.

How does Louis know he wears glasses?

“I didn't, um,” Louis is _really_ close to him, “I didn't bring them. Or my contacts. Because of… reasons.”

“Reasons,” Louis says. 

Rather, his _mouth_ says, because Nick can't bear to look away. His foggy mind is propelled back to just minutes before, when that exact mouth was the center of attention. He’s so preoccupied with Louis’ lips moving, that he completely misses what’s actually coming out of them.

“– from over there it’s probably as bad as mine so… here.”

Louis is handing him a pair of Aviator style eyeglasses. He doesn’t know how that happened, or why, but he listens to the boy in front of him and puts them on after setting his cup down on the kitchen island beside them.

Everything comes into focus, and it must be obvious that he’s able to see again, because Louis takes a step back. He’s smiling, a wicked toothy, lopsided grin that Nick can’t tear his eyes from.

“How do I look?” He meant thank Louis, but his brain has lost all connection with his mouth. “I mean– Thanks. I’m–”

“S’no problem. Don’t worry about breaking them, I’ve got about half a dozen pairs. Blind as a bat, me, and just as clumsy.”

Nick didn’t know this. Louis’ prescription is almost an exact match to his, if not a little weaker. But he can see now, and it makes all the difference in the quality of the mischievous shine in Louis’ eyes that always seems to be there.

“Better get out there,” Nick says. “They’ll be missing their star player.”

“Right. Yeah. I’ll see you later then.” Louis laughs, but it doesn’t sound genuine. “You look great, by the way.”

 

Nick finds himself hiding in the shadows even though he’s able to see. Everything’s moving in slow motion and he thinks that maybe he shouldn’t have had that brownie that Alexa had all but shoved down his throat. He’s leaning into a corner and staring at the telly, imagining a movie that’s just a close up of Louis talking. Nick would love that.

That’s how Louis finds him, giggling to himself and squinting through Louis’ glasses at the off television. 

“Alright there?”

Nick laughs. He wants to say something but there’s something funny about the way Louis bares his teeth with the question. Louis probably laughs just because Nick had laughed, but Nick can’t help furrowing his eyebrows and asking what’s funny.

“Come on, come with me.”

Nick half expects Louis to grab his hand to pull him along, but he finds himself magnetically drawn to the imaginary trail that Louis leaves behind him without it.

“What are we doing in here?” Nick manages to say without slurring.

They’re in the kitchen, so it’s kind of a stupid question.

“Refilling my drink, mate. Was gonna get you one as well. What’ll ya have?”

The pale light of the fridge in the dark room illuminates Louis’ face. It’s angelic, almost, if Nick wanted to be melodramatic about it. His eyes are starting to feel as though he’s taken off his glasses again, so he finds himself shaking his head before Louis reaches into the fridge for a beer. He rifles on top of it for a plastic cup, then pours the beer into it. Nick doesn’t get why he’s doing that.

“You’ve… you’re–”

Louis groans and rolls his eyes playfully. “Don’t want people to know what I’m drinking, y’know? I like to be a bit of a mystery, even if my big mouth is always giving me away.”

Nick knows exactly what he means. He misses it when Louis switches their places so he can lean against the counter. His body is starting to feel heavy so he uses the fridge for support. He’s knocked over a magnet or two but all he cares about is Louis opening his mouth wide to lick his lips because he’s spilt beer all down his chin. Maybe they should both lie down.

Louis starts fidgeting, sticks his cup between his teeth and patting his pockets. "Where did I put–" It's muffled by the cup, so he takes it in his hand again.

Harry's described this very routine to him a dozen times, how Louis uses it as a way to pick up girls at bars. Nick takes the bait and fishes in his own pocket for his pack of cigarettes.

Louis' mouth does that thing again, where it announces itself as the highlight of his face, and he's smiling much too wide for such a mundane gesture. "Thanks, mate. Wanna come?"

The alcohol in Nick's brain doesn't consult him, and suddenly he can't think of anything he'd rather do than watch Louis Tomlinson possibly chain smoke a brand new pack of cigarettes. 

“Yeah, sure.”

When the patio door slides closed behind them Louis doesn’t hesitate to take a seat on the porch swing. He looks comfortable there, and Nick doesn’t know where to stand or what to do with his hands because Louis has his cigarettes. 

“Didn’t know you smoked,” Louis says conversationally. 

He doesn’t, just uses them as a social bridge.

“Didn’t know you wore glasses.”

Louis shrugs. “Guess we don’t know a lot about each other.” He flicks the end of his cigarette into his empty cup. “You gonna come sit or what?”

Nick does, and either whatever Alexa fed him is starting to wear off or sitting next to Louis Tomlinson is enough to sober him up in three seconds flat. He blinks, not daring to look at Louis because he knows if he does he’ll just stare. Right at his mouth.

“Nick,” Louis sing-songs. “What’re you thinking? For someone so loud you’re being awfully quiet.”

Nick snorts, trying to keep his cool when he turns to face Louis. He props a leg up on the swing, using the other to sway them back and forth. “You’re one to talk.”

Louis grins around his second cigarette. “Cheeky! There he is.”

Nick blinks and suddenly Louis is leaning into his space. He smells extremely smokey and Nick half expects his lungs to lock up in an asthma attack. They don’t, though, only a little bit when Nick watches Louis’ lips close around the filter. It’s wet, when he draws back, and he just lets the smoke seep out of his loosely parted lips. Then he’s saying something, but Nick genuinely doesn’t notice. He’s high all over again. 

“What?” he mumbles dumbly, eyes locked on Louis’ mouth. Louis’ sharp incisors come into view and it’s really all too much. He’s past caring, though. He can blame it on the drinks, the drugs.

“I said, are you gonna do something about all this staring? Or am I just here to put on a show.” He licks his lips after he says it, slow and tantalising and it takes Nick a moment to realise that he’s doing it on purpose.

He scoots back as far as he can. “ _What_?” But Louis closes the distance as quickly as Nick puts it between them.

“D’you wanna kiss me, Nick? Cos you can, I don’t mind.”

Nick hates when people say that he’s shit with words even though he talks for a living… but seems pretty accurate for this moment. His tongue stumbles over four non-words before he all but throws himself at Louis, biting his lips and contrarily holding his face in his hands gently. It’s too soft, the way his thumbs rub tiny circles into the points of Louis’ jawbones, so he makes up for it kissing Louis roughly. He really doesn’t want to give away just how long he’s wanted this. 

When a soft sound slips past Louis’ lips and he begins his ascent on Nick’s body, pushing him into the _thankfully_ cushioned arm of the swing, Nick briefly feels as though this moment has been carefully crafted by the universe itself. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve this, but he’s ever so grateful and is going to make the most of it.

Louis pulls back to grin slyly at him. They nearly tip over because Louis has been drinking a lot more than Nick has. He lets out a delightful laugh, then a content sigh, pressing his lips softly to Nick’s once more. 

“Could’ve done that any time, y’know. I always see you staring. You could’ve just _asked_.” He giggles into Nick’s cheek. “Hasn’t Harry ever told you I’m always up for a good snog?”

Nick doesn’t know what to say. His head is swimming. “I’ll be honest, mate, I thought you hated me.”

Louis shakes his head, kisses Nick again. He tastes like cigarette smoke and it’s gross and Nick is going to need to cleanse his lungs after this but it feels so nice that he forces himself not to care, just tries to chase the taste of beer which isn’t his first choice but is infinitely better than the nicotine. 

He’s going to make Louis’ mouth all red. 

“You’re so stupid,” Louis mumbles.

“You’re fucking brilliant,” Nick whispers back.

Louis huffs a laugh, tightening his thighs where they’re bracketing Nick’s waist and nipping at his throat. All Nick can do is hold on tight, fists curled up in the back of Louis’ soft red t-shirt. He puts a hand in Louis’ hair, pulls him back none too gently and just holds him there, gets a good look at the wet bitten state of his mouth.

“Fucking hell.” He says it more to himself than anything before pulling Louis back in for more kisses. This is probably Nick’s new favorite thing. He’s never going to stop thinking about it. 

Louis’ just started to suggestively squirm in Nick’s lap when the patio door slams open. 

“Oi!” Comes Alexa’s loud, drunken voice. “No fucking on my new swing, you’re gonna break it. Get a fucking room, Jesus.”

Nick hadn't thought past getting his mouth on Louis’, and his reaction to the suggestion is unfortunate, and entirely not his fault. He throws his head back, whining brokenly. Louis probably flips her off, because the door shuts again and Alexa isn’t yelling anymore.

“M’far too drunk for this.” He doesn’t sound it, but Nick is sure that he knows himself better than Nick does. “Gotta get the lads. We’ve got an interview in the morning, if you can believe it.”

“I can believe it,” Nick says, “It’s on my bloody show.”

Louis plants a wet kiss on the tip of Nick’s nose.

“Well that ought to be _fun_.”

Then he’s gone, and Nick is certain that he’s dreaming. He can’t get the image of Louis’ red red mouth of his mind. When he closes his eyes it’s just _there_. And he _did that_. He’ll probably never open his eyes again.

In the distance he can hear Louis shouting after his boys, voice echoing through the house and booming over the music. 

Louis Tomlinson’s mouth is going to be the death of him.


End file.
